A Prima Vista
by Snugglebunnies
Summary: I had fallen in love the moment I first met him. I was little, mind you, and although it is fairly easy to earn the affections of a child, this was different. It was more of a desire for his effortless sense of complete happiness - and I have pined after that happiness ever since. TamakixOC
1. Chapter O1: Pastorale

First Ouran fanfic and it turns out kind of...odd. As a side note, all of the chapter names will be in reference to music terms. You can either brush up or I'll leave an explanation in following chapters.

Never mind that, please enjoy. Next chapter will be out soon or story may possibly be removed to be edited and stored away for another time. Really it depends on the reaction it gets.

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**An Ouran High School Host Club Fanfic -**

**A Prima Vista: At First Sight  
**Chapter O1: Pastorale

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I woke to the playing of music.

The soft, expressive notes of the piano sounded throughout the house but seemed ever so restrained, as if careful to wake me. I wasn't all that surprised - I am not a morning person in the slightest. It made me smile, however, the composition was contentedly familiar and I was instantly aware of who was playing. And that I forgotten we had guests today.

Urging myself to cast aside the warm comfort that the bedcovers offered, my feet were the first to hit the plushy, cream-colored carpet [a feature that I had heavily insisted upon - I detested hardwood floors in the mornings, as it was far too cold]. I bustled about the moderately sized room and in and out of the adjoining bathroom, assuring that I looked at least relatively pleasant and did not scare away the guests with my haggard morning appearance.

Glancing at my reflection in the mirror on the mainly decorative vanity set in the corner, I hummed with vague satisfaction. "Good enough," I mumbled, brushing through my hair with spindly fingers once again.

Rushing down one of the oversized staircases that I had become accustomed to, and nearly tripping over my own feet in the process [never was the most erm...graceful of people], a large smile stretched across my face as I spotted the small gathering of people in the foyer.

I watched the scene briefly. The occasionally overdramatic blonde French-Japanese man that so serenely tickled the ivories of the piano, the quiet tinkling of porcelain teacups that sporadically interrupted the melody resonating within the rather grand room and the laughing that accompanied a reunion of old friends.

The man who had strangely won my affections all those years ago was the first to notice my presence.

He smiled. "Good Morning,"

I raised an eyebrow, refusing to return the upwards turning of the mouth. "We need to get the piano tuned. The sound is off."

"Ah, my tactless _bien-aimé_!" The music stopped, much to my displeasure. I really had been joking with him but the man proceeded to remove himself from the piano's seat and saunter [for that was the epitome of his particular stride] towards me.

I began to retreat, questioning his approach, nevertheless he caught me in a sweeping movement. A soothing embrace followed.

"Is anything wrong now, _bien-aimé_?"

"_Rien du tout_." I responded, with a peck on his forehead before I -

-Ah, but perhaps I should start from the beginning. You see, things weren't always this...perfect, per se. It took more than a fair share of hard work to achieve this happiness of mine. And now, when I mean the beginning, I mean the very start of this whole mess.

So, please enjoy this music-ridden, childhood-love-story and totally clichéd account of my life. Horribly entitled: The [probably exceedingly boring] Memoirs of Carillon Faye.

And it is here we begin.

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_bien-aimé - _Beloved; Darling

_Rien du tout_ - 'Nothing at all' in French.

**Please Review :)**


	2. Chapter O2: Repente

Here's the second chapter, folks! Sorry it took so long OTL.

Thank you to **Ventilateur** for reviewing, it made me so happy :D And many thanks to everyone that favorited and liked this story!

Enjoy!

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**An Ouran High School Host Club Fanfic -**

**A Prima Vista: At First Sight  
**Chapter O2: Repente

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I'll admit that am quite average in standing - an anomaly, in all actuality. The black sheep that came from beautifully and pristinely white parents. I do certainly profit from my parents' painfully successful careers, however, as I live in the high-class society and attended a school that the less well-to-do can only dream of.

Sporting the black hair of my mother, however tainted with the unkempt plainness of my father's, my locks were rather bland. I also received the round, vaguely plump figure that also belongs to the man but is sporadically interrupted by the sharp, angular features of my maternal parent. All in all, I came out with an odd, makeshift sort of appearance. One would look at our family and assume I should be adopted, as I was the metaphorical blemish on my parents' beauty.

What didn't make things any better was my utter lack of any inherent skills at all. I could not naturally undertake playing any sort of instrument at all, nor did I have any of the outgoing charm and business sense that my father had. They had tried to sooth my worries, of course [they didn't hate me - in fact, loved me quite a lot], by assuring that I was simply a late bloomer. However, whenever social gatherings occurred, I could be wholly certain that one of my parent's acquaintances would note my at least one of my obvious faults.

It affected me little. It was more my own self-loathing that caused my insecurities.

However, at one of these parties my parents were obliged to throw, I met a lady. She was surprisingly tall for a woman, but managed to retain a delicate appearance. Her hair was brilliant, a strange shade of blonde that reminded me of sunlight on honey and it was as wavy as the ocean itself. I'm sure that the sea was indeed quite jealous of this woman, as her hair was wavier and her eyes ever more bluer.

Of course, little did I know that I would eventually fall for her son but I'll get to that bit later.

"Carillon, this is Anne-Sophie." My mother ventured to introduce. "Say hello." She urged, patting me on the back lightly.

"Hello, Miss." I mumbled, sure this woman would turn out as vile as the rest of the party-goers. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too, Little Lady." The sea's envy, Anne-Sophie greeted pleasantly, in a notably heavy French accent.

"She'll be staying with us as I teach her son how to play piano," My mother continued, as our greetings were finished. "Actually, I believe her son is about your age."

_Wonderful, another snot-nosed brat to boss me around._ I grumbled internally. I've come to think that everyone considers me a shy person, seeing as I am not a great conversationalist, although it couldn't be less true. I simply don't talk to people because I purely don't like them - and yes, I realize how horrible and disgusting that sounds. I can't help it.

I nodded in vague recognition to her words, not outwardly showing my interest in the subject, when I was actually dissecting every word of the conversation. My mother now misconceived my silence as sleepiness, and called a maid to usher me off to a bed that was far too big for someone of my small stature.

"Goodnight, Darling." My mother called after me, before resuming her conversation with Anne-Sophie.

Clambering up the stairs as fast as my heel-donned feet would carry me, the maid quietly followed behind my messy steps. I was just realizing how I was, in fact, quite sleepy when two women's malicious gossip wandered into my ear. It was about the nice blonde lady, I discovered, and how she was only after a man's money and that she was his _mistress._ I scrunched my nose in distaste, as I didn't know what the word had meant right then, and I promised myself to look in up in the dictionary tomorrow.

Regrettably, I am a very forgetful person.

As the faceless maid guided me into my bedroom, tugging me along by hand as if I might get lost, I quickly scrambled into the oversized bed. I was ready for it to be tomorrow, so I could...do that thing that I promised myself I would do. Whatever that was.

With the maddening feeling of forgetting something important, the maid tucked me in and bid me a motherly goodnight. I didn't even remember her - maybe she was the one who tucked me in the other night as well? No matter, I didn't quite understand why she would show this much affection towards me - I certainly wasn't friendly toward her. People are strange, indeed.

That thought replayed in my head before I promptly drifted off to sleep. What can I say? I've always fallen asleep fast. Like an upside-down rabbit with its eyes covered, my father always said.

If I had known how the following day would turn out, I probably [definitely] would have stayed in bed. I would have faked a cough, thrown a tantrum, or _something_ to prevent the events of that next damn day.

**The Next Day **

The sound of Beethoven's _Fur Elise_ was what roused me that morning. I suspected that Mother was playing for some overnight guest that was too drunk to drive home the other evening. Maybe it was for that Annie-Susan...No that's not right, well whatever, the French lady. If so, I was oddly excited by the prospect. However, if her son was with her...that's another story. I definitely did not like the idea of him.

Throwing my pudgy childish legs over the edge of the bed carelessly, they dangled for a beat before I slid off and landed hard on the hardwood floor below. Scrunching my nose as the cold of the floor shot up my spine, I hastily scampered over to my chest of drawers in search of clothing.

Although I didn't particularly care for which clothes I wore, my mother would and, though I did not always agree with the woman, I generally enjoyed pleasing her. So, with that in mind, I went for the most flowing, cute dress in the drawer and rang for a maid to help with my hair.

A French braid. Of all things, the maid went for a French braid. I guess it was appropriate, seeing as our possible guest is a French lady. But it was a bothersome and painful process and together with the extra effort of dressing nicely, it put me in a rather foul mood. Yes, I recognize that I am a considerably 'bad person', as people would put it, but I am a child and my fuse is very short. So, hey, give me a break.

Absentmindedly, I thanked the maid, dismissing her prior to departing from the room myself. I remained trapped within my own thoughts as I wove through the hallways. My tiny, baby-ish feet remained bare, seeing as I was still in the house, and created very little sound as I rushed down the ostentatious staircase that filled the entry hall of the house.

When I finally arrive at my set destination, a spare living room-turned-music room, I exhaled my held breath sharply. I didn't understand why I was nervous. I was never nervous when meeting my parents' other guests. I didn't even know if it _was_ the French lady and her son.

Not waiting till my cowardice made me run away, I pushed the too-big door in front of me open and my breath was instantly caught in my throat at the sight before me.

_He's...beautiful_, I thought, although I wasn't quite sure if 'beautiful' was the right word. Now, don't get me wrong. I've been surround by beautiful, stunning even, people my entire life but never has one seemed this...dazzling before.

It turns out that a boy, maybe a year older than I was, was playing the piano. The sun filtered in through the curtains behind him, partially silhouetting him yet managing to make his golden hair [for the lack of a better word] glow. His eyes were closed in a look of concentration and contentedness. I found myself both in love with him and envious of him almost immediately.

The next events were blurred together. My mother noticed me, the music stopped and the boy turned. Our eyes met and my mother introduced us.

"Carillon, this is Tamaki Suoh."

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I hoped you liked it! Please tell me what you think by reviewing! :D

Ah and **Repente,** this chapter's title, means 'suddenly' which I thought fit the ending of this chapter :)


	3. Chapter O3: Agitato

I am so very sorry for the major [3 month!] delay on this chapter! I got a case of the writer's block blues for this story but hopefully I will get back on updating this more frequently. I appreciate your patience with me :) Ah, and while I am on the topic of readers...THANK YOU GUYS SOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! And the favorites. And the alerts. I always love reviews, as they let me know what you guys think of the story! Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Disclaimed.

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**Chapter O3:  
****_Agitato_**

_When people hear good music, it makes them homesick for something they never had, and never will have.  
-Edgar Watson Howe_

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_"Carillon, this is Tamaki Suoh."_

I never could comprehend why people in those romance movies my father watched [yes my father, Mother wore the pants in the family] suddenly froze when the love interest was introduced. However, as I stood there ogling with my mouth silently opening and closing like a fish out of water, I suddenly understood. And it felt absolutely horrible.

Why did people cherish this utterly disgusting, debilitating feeling? What right did that boy have to come crashing into my home and make me look like an idiot? I could not speak and an unpleasant churning sensation had claimed my stomach. It was almost as if I had eaten caterpillars at one point in my life and they had suddenly decided to turn into butterflies.

I realized that as I was busy wrangling my thoughts together, that a worried look had gathered on my mother's face. She probably should look concerned, as I doubtlessly appeared to have gone brain-dead and stood staring at that Tamaki boy with a strangely intense gaze.

Forcing myself to blink, I managed a small, overly polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tamaki."

He gave a wide smile in return. "Hello, Carillon!" Our mothers began to leave us, migrating back to the couch to drink their briefly forgotten tea. Tamaki and I stared at each other for a moment, I was sizing the boy up while he simply continued to smile gladly at me, as if no conversation was needed. I let my courteous smile falter, gazing at him indifferently before waddling past his small body and over to my mother's side.

As I scrambled onto the sofa, my mind began to turn.

The boy had a sense of effortless happiness, a level of contentment that I very rarely experienced. He was a wonderful musician, while I could barely manage 'Mary had a Little Lamb'. He could smile without forcing himself. He was attractive. He was not criticized for his inability to do things, probably because there wasn't anything he couldn't do. He was...amazing. And because of that I began to feel a concoction of envy, adoration and dislike forming a knot within my stomach. I hated this boy, who was naturally better than I was.

I wanted to smother his happiness...no, I wanted to steal that happiness. I wanted it for myself, I needed it. I needed that smile, that blissful charisma.

Eventually my mother decided to show the French Lady [whose name was Anne Sophie, apparently] our house, insisting that I stay behind and 'get to know' Tamaki. I briefly wished that I hadn't been in the mood to please her this morning, and that I wore a less attractive piece of clothing. Maybe then I wouldn't be in this predicament, sure she would be angry with me but at the moment I didn't care.

I just did not want to be in the same room with this boy.

"Your home is very nice." Tamaki attempted to start a conversation, looking hopefully towards me. Unfortunately for him, I was in no such mood to talk. Fortunately for him, I was obligated to be polite.

"Yes." I responded curtly, not glancing away from the window as I spoke. "I'm glad you like it here." Alright, the last part was a lie. In truth, I wanted to state that I simply did not like him and shoo him away. Alas, I had no such option.

Peeking at him through the corner of my eye, I noticed that there wasn't a drop of doubt in his eyes - as if he didn't suspect my dislike of him or my lie. He did look somewhat like a kicked puppy from my tone of voice, though. Tamaki appeared as if he was trying to figure something out, but pushed it from his mind with a shake of the head. Then he moved back to his place on the piano seat and his wonderful music began to fill the air.

I was being a brat, I realize this fact. I had begun to act like those little monster children that I hated even occupying the same room with. I silently groaned. This whole internal conflict thing was ridiculous. All because of that stupid boy.

Time seemed to morph into a snail, forever slinking along a bridge, looking for the end. All the while, as I was arguing like a mad hatter with myself, the fantastical notes that escaped from the depths of a piano I assumed broken [as it never released such pleasant sounds when tickled by my fingers] caused me to relax. The distant, nagging alarm of the lowering of walls built long ago tinkled in the back of my head while I felt the destructive banter that consumed my mind slip away.

It started with the eyes. An ever-so cautious peek at the boy playing piano from the periphery. That single risk taken led to a tilting of the head, face-forward, gawking, and a shift of torso. Slowly, creeping along - infectious, it seemed - till my legs were tucked to my chest and I was notably ogling him. The strange thing is, there was not a glimmer of shame - I don't believe that, in that very moment, anything filled my brain besides _that boy's_ music.

And then it stopped. And he turned towards me. And I felt...angry. Ashamed. Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

It is safe to say I reacted rather...negatively to these feelings.

A frown, a puckered, hard-pressed thing, contorted my lips as his beautiful violet-blue eyes landed on me. I got angry - angry with myself and the boy who made me feel quite uncertain - and I bore my ugly side to that boy.

"What?" I wasn't until that point that I could sound that foul, actually. "Don't look at me you...you son of a mistress!" Alright, yes, I had just randomly selected a word I had heard used in a negative sense to insult him. In all actually, there was nothing to insult him on but his mother seemed like a good option for the livid and irrational me. So, I used the very word that I had forgotten to look up this morning on a boy whose mother I admired, therefore insulting him, her and making me look like a fool.

"_Carillon_!"

I recoiled at my mother's harsh tone. How inopportune, that my mother and Tamaki's should walk in at that very time. With rushed, jumbled apologies to Anne-Sophie, my mother headed towards me like a charging bull. Grabbing my arm with a hard hand, I was nearly dragged from the room - which I found myself developing a distaste for - however, not before I caught a glimpse of the boy's smiling mask. Suddenly, the punishment my mother was certainly about to inflict upon me, the unforgiving words she would throw at me like a rain of stones, did not matter. Her words would only serve as a reinforcement to the guilt growing in my stomach.

I had done something horrible and I _knew_ it. Which is a feat, considering I was still a child with childish, selfish thoughts in my head. I knew that I had hurt that boy - that boy with magical fingers, his mother's stunning gold locks and striking violet-blue eyes. And I also knew I would never be blessed with the opportunity to ask for forgiveness because my mother would never let me near him again.

What an idiot I am.

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Carillon is quite the brat. No worries thought - she gets better. Sort of. Anyways, please review and let me know what I can do to improve and whether or not you like the story so far. It doesn't even have to be something major - just any little quirks or hiccups that need to be worked out. I don't have a beta so I'm kind of editing this myself and it would help greatly if I knew if I had misspelled something or had a grammatical glitch happen in this story. I digress.

**Thank you for reading**! Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon :)


	4. Chapter O4

...It's been awhile hasn't it? I'm sorry, but life caught up to me, not to mention a horrible case of writer's block. But when I rediscovered this story on my computer, I found it really relaxing to write about these characters again :) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Reviews are always welcomed. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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I was rarely home anymore.

Sure to her words the week prior, my mother kept me from Tamaki. Currently I was being babysat by my maid, who had taken me to the park around the corner. I had never enjoyed parks, I might, had I had been able to run as fast as the other kids playing hide-and-seek and tag, yet I possessed very little athletic talent. So I ignored the mother-hen-like woman when she encouraged me to go play and I sat, thinking and drowning in self-pity and guilt.

Once Mother had enlightened Father on my deeds earlier that week, he had looked upset. He did not get angry, as I had expected despite his always collected manner. No, he was simply disappointed. And that only made things worse. He had looked upon me with his bushy, dark brows furrowed and his scruffy jaw clenched in a tight-lipped frown. Never had he even so much as glanced at me with such an expression, not even when I broke his favorite vase or spilt my grape juice on the white sofa in his office. He had laughed then - taken me lovingly into his lap and told me a story of when he was a child. He had not looked at me with such discontent, as if I had done something simply unforgivable. He had not appeared stressed over the matter, pinching his crooked nose with meaty fingers. He had not looked at me like I was shameful, like I had committed sin.

I do not remember when I started crying during the process of my parents' reprimands or even if I had, I only remember the maid guiding me into my bathroom and gently dabbing my face with a tissue. I remember clinging to her with a childish weakness I had never known that dwelt within me.

There was a tugging sensation from my hand, presumably the maid telling me it was time to go, and the feeling of pulled from the comfort of the wooden bench. My feet worked automatically, thankfully, allowing me to remain in the company my thoughts with little trouble. I vaguely noticed the maid telling me how I excited she thought I must be over returning home. Sometimes, I wonder if another person is even needed for conversation. It seemed that most of the time, people simply occupy themselves well enough alone.

I allowed myself to be lifted into the backseat of the car by the maid, not having the energy to protest such an enfeebling action. If I was not in such low spirits, I would have insisted on doing it myself - I didn't particularly _enjoy_ troubling others. However, I had found myself wanting to be babied after the incident. Mother was angry with me and most of her time had been taken up by that boy and his mother recently, so I rarely saw her. And she never tucked me in anymore. Neither did my father. It was just the maid now. The maid that I had no connection with before that day. Now I craved her company because at least she was _someone_. I have recently come to realize that I don't like being alone all the time - I didn't like the way it made me feel.

I also bothered myself to look into the meaning of that crude word I called Anne-Sophie. It meant that she was Tamaki's father's lover and that they weren't married. I do not understand why that is such a taboo topic. My mother was two months pregnant with me when she married my father. They were lovers. They weren't married. Yet, Anne-Sophie looked sad when I called her that - almost as wounded as Tamaki did. And I felt like I had missed something particularly vital in the definition of '_mistress_'.

Sometimes I found myself wishing I was older, so that I could understand these things. Even the word _lover _was foreign. What did it entail? Did it mean that they had kissed each other? Mother still refused to tell me how babies were made [she had suggested a stork, but that had raised too many questions], but maybe it had something to do with that? Did it mean that they loved each other very much? I thought that was a good thing.

It was all too confusing! Even the butterflies that flutter in my stomach when I first saw Tamaki were puzzling to my child's mind. I don't know why my heart feels as if it is about to burst from my chest when I so much as _think_ about that boy. I don't know why my mother puts up with my father's antics and far too casual personality. The idea of love is ridiculous to me. Why would someone _want_ to feel as if their head isn't attached to their shoulders or that their heart is in their throat? It simply doesn't make sense to me.

It was these thoughts that rampaged through my head as I was chauffeured home, these horribly vexing thoughts that caused me too much internal turmoil to be healthy for a small child. However, it did not seem to last for long, compared to how it had dragged on for the past week, that is. This is because as the car rounded the last curve before we arrived at my house, my eyes landed on a familiar looking car in the drive. It was not my mother's. It was not my father's. It was Anne-Sophie's.

Excitement and dread raged a war inside my stomach, a feud which only settled when both had exhausted each other and turned into a heavy stone in the bottom of my gut. I swallowed hard, weighing my choices. I could live with this overwhelming guilt until it faded as I got older. Or, I could defy my parents' wishes and sneak away to find Tamaki. As I had never been a particularly patient or tolerant child, I decided on the latter. If only to be able to get some sleep at night - the shame was killing me. Alright, maybe that's a bit melodramatic but, hey, I'm a kid. I'm supposed to act cute and get what I want, not wallow in remorse. And damn it all, I would fix this mess even I had to get spanked!

Claiming the urge to tinkle as the maid pulled into the driveway, I tumbled out of the car as fast as my awkward limbs would allow and tripped my way to the door. The next series of events involved cleverly dodging the parents, a lot of tip-toeing and wall-clinging. Navigating my way through the house, I naturally headed toward the gentle tones of piano keys, assuming that their source would lead me to that boy.

And that they did.

His appearance hit me just about as hard as the first time. Golden locks, that waved gently into those wide, trusting blue eyes of his. It was that smile, however, that made my lungs lose their hold on the air and my heart to gain a flurry of butterflies inside of it. The only thing that kept me from hating him all over again was the loathing I felt towards myself and the apology that needed to be delivered.

Yet, as I watched the boy mess up a note from 'Mary had a Little Lamb', I couldn't quite keep my idiotic mouth.

"That needed to be a sharp," I piped, not moving a muscle as my tongue betrayed me. "And you need to start using your pinky or else you'll never have enough reach."

Tamaki's music ceased almost immediately after the words greeted the air and he turned to face me. I met his eyes with my own hesitant ones. When he did not start yelling or crying, I approached cautiously and joined him on his perch.

"Do you play?" He asked in earnest, seemingly unaffected by the happenings of last week.

"Not very well." I answered, refusing to meet his gaze lest my pride get wounded. But as the boy beside me began to play again, I couldn't help the small smile that dance on the edges of my lips.

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Please review guys, it helps keep away the writer's block! Oh and I'll probably go back and edit this chapter later but I just wanted to post something before I hit the hay tonight :)


	5. Chapter O5

Hello again, dear readers! I just want to thank you guys for taking the time to review! I realized I didn't mention the reviewers last chapter and it bothered me, because you guys take the time to even read this story and took even more time to review. So thank you :) I really appreciate it. And now that you guys are all buttered up, I get to apologize for the brevity of this chapter. It's pretty much transition and the whole cast of Ouran will be introduced in the next chapter, which will hopefully be a bit longer.

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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The battle between my pride and that weird, indistinct fondness I felt for Tamaki that had been waging within my budding, child's mind since I met him had apparently met a temporary consensus. How, exactly, this truce was brought to life, I reasoned was the fault of his music. Regardless of blame, however, the nasty snake that I hadn't known had a grip on me, had disappeared. And I allowed myself to smile, if just a little bit.

He wasn't looking at me, so what was the harm?

No, his only love seemed to be the ivory keys that sang beneath the gentle touch of his fingers. I was no longer the focus of that perfectly contented smile, or those wide eyes that seemed to have trapped the great seven seas inside of them. No, I am now simply an observer. One of the pathetic mortals whose feeble emotions were at the mercy of the gods, like in the stories my mother used to read to me. I was Clytie and Tamaki was Helios. I was a sunflower, and he was my sun. And I wanted more sun; I wanted all of it.

I vaguely wondered if the halo of blonde locks around his head was a sign of god-hood, a thought which I proceeded to mulishly shoo away. Realizing that my time was most likely running short with the boy that inspired such change in my stubborn ways, I slid off the soft leather of the stool. I also remembered that I had yet to apologize to the other kid, a fact that I was not at all pleased to recall.

The music stopped again and I turned. "I'm sorry," I said, little variation in my voice as I met his eyes. This was probably due to the fact that I had never been in a situation where I had to apologize to someone other than my parents. And even that was rare. Yet here I was, spewing 'I'm sorry's to this gorgeous, perfect boy. It was vaguely infuriating to how far outside that wonderful place I like to call my comfort zone this whole situation was.

He smiled at me. It seemed like he was always doing that and I briefly felt the urge to insult him again to see if he kept it up. I also spent a heartbeat wondering if it was genuine. There couldn't possibly be someone who could be that tolerant, could there?

"I'm leaving."

His smile remained, as if this is something I should be happy about. I _should_ be happy about it, I mean, who have I been complaining about for the past few weeks? Him. But why did I feel something frustratingly akin to sadness when he said that? Was it because he made it sound like I hated him? Well, I guess, I hadn't entirely made my fondness of him totally clear but still!

Of course, instead of vocalizing my thoughts about him, I remained indifferent. My tongue seemed to have a vendetta against me, because why else would it refuse to say what I wanted it to say?

"I need to go," I mumbled, the empty words seeming to echo in the silence as I turned away.

I really hated myself for turning away. I hated myself even more when I left that boy in my mother's music room alone.

The next morning, over a big breakfast, I was informed by my mother, who was still painfully polite to me, that Tamaki and Anne-Sophie had left. She did not tell me where they had gone, and I didn't dare ask.

Tension still filled the air when I was around my mother and I had begun to feel a very odd resentment bubble up inside me sometimes. This was of course overshadowed by my love for her and further ruined by my lack of ability to hold a grudge. But it was still there. And I knew it was because I felt as if she rejected because I had embarrassed her and not because I misbehaved. It was a deep seeded doubt, one that mingled with my nasty little insecurities and lingered in the back of my mind almost always. I did nothing to voice my problems to my mother, nor did I try to rid myself of the feeling. I just let it fester and putrefy. I seemed to have a problem with letting things do that.

Although, as I was stuffing my face with eggs and allowing myself to be consumed by my thoughts, I didn't think it weird that my father wasn't there with us. At the time, I thought he was just busy with work. I also didn't notice how my mother wasn't wearing the necklace he gave her, even though it had been around her neck for as long as I can remember, or how she twisted the silver band on her ring finger like it hugged her too tightly.

Being the child that I was, I had not yet come to understand some of the complexities of grown-ups or even myself, really. And, if I'm being honest, I would never really understand other people. Even today, I don't know why Tamaki tolerates my harsh words or the way I tend to accidently insult everyone around me. Sometimes, I think he knows me more than I do. Or maybe he's just an idiot. Both are equally as plausible.

And as I look back on that busy week of my seventh year, I realize now that it was just the beginning of all that followed. And that I owed it to my parents for providing me the opportunity to meet Tamaki again.

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And loads of foreshadowing this chapter! Anyway, the next chapter will probably be up soon because its been pounding to get out of my head for days now.

Oh and to **MelancholyKing**, Tamaki is eleven months older than Carillon and so he is about eight in these early chapters :) Later, Carillon is sixteen and Tamaki, of course, is seventeen. Thanks for the review by the way! It always makes me really happy to know what you guys think about my story and Carillon!

Thanks for reading everyone!


	6. Chapter O6

Hello! I managed to update rather quickly this time :] While I didn't get many reviews last chapter (except for **WannaBee Is Not A Bee** - thank you for taking the time to review, by the way!) I did get a lot of follows and favorites so thanks guys! I'm really happy with all the praise about my style and I'm so glad that you all are liking this story so far! As always, reviews (and critiques) are always greatly appreciated.

The voice in this chapter might seem a bit different, but that's intentional. I just hope you guys like it as much as Child!Carillon.

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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I never spoke to Tamaki again. I never spoke about Tamaki again. I did think about him though, on days where nothing in the world could keep my mind from wandering. On days when I bothered myself to attempt to play piano. On days when I didn't ever want to leave my bed. Those days came too frequently - or not frequently enough in some cases.

I'm sixteen now. My bones still jut out awkwardly in some places. My hair still doesn't look as pretty as my mother's. My waist is still a bit too thick, my face a smidge too round. I still don't understand much about people, or life for that matter. I'm taller now, though, and I think that's an improvement because I can finally reach the top shelf in the kitchen. My parents are divorced now and I am currently being exchanged between the two like a hot potato. They say they still love me though and I have no doubts about that. But my father had stopped praising my steadily improving grades. My mother had eventually given up on teaching me how to play piano. I rationalized that they're just too busy.

And if I was still a child, these things would bother me.

I usually have most of the house to myself - and most of it goes unused except for the parties my mother still holds occasionally. I found a friend in Mary, the maid, and she's been the one to teach me the most; I can now manage to clean my room by myself and I can bake okay-tasting pastries. She's more interesting than she was when I was younger - maybe it's because she's around me all the time. Mary is apparently engaged to a bookstore owner and had an eight-year-old son. This made me feel slightly possessive of the woman - I was not the only person she cared for. It also made me give her more time off. I also found myself in the library a lot, the books a welcome escape over the years. I think all of the reading that I've done over the years has hurt my eyes though, as I am required to wear glasses nowadays. They're thick rimmed, big things which dwarf my nose. They cover my eyes, which is something I've grown to like, as I never have to think about what expression I'm wearing anymore.

My father moved to Japan recently after a several visits due to business and my mother had recently restarted her music career. They seem happier. Because of this new happiness that I never knew was missing, when my mother asked that I go live with my father for awhile, I accepted. She was in Europe the next morning.

And if I was still a child, these things would bother me. But maybe I am still a bit of a child because I was angry, absolutely furious with my mother. I wanted to yell at them - I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I was too old for that nonsense, wasn't I? Accepting that life wasn't fair was something adults did, right?

Neatly packing the last of my clothes into an all-too-familiar suitcase, I parted company with my thoughts. They were troublesome things, always had been if I really thought about it. There was a deep gnawing in my stomach that did not seem to be remedied with food. Was it fear? Mary would not be coming with me to Japan due to her obligation to her family and I didn't ask her to come.

Looking around my stripped bare room, I quickly checked to make sure that I did not forget anything. When I discovered that I hadn't, I exhaled sharply and grabbed my sole, travel-weary suitcase. I left my room with only a twinge of sadness and headed down the hall, toes wiggling in protest to the sudden cold from the hardwood flooring. Strangely enough, it was always cold in the house now. I guess it's because there was no warm laughter to fill the air anymore. But I vaguely remember this being the beginning of my loathing of wood flooring.

I descended the stairs with ease, no longer having to stumble awkwardly down them like I did as a child, before I slipped on my shoes. No one other than Mary greeted me at the doors, a sad smile on her face. Her warm eyes were red and bloodshot and her nose sounded stuffed. I assumed she had been crying - this made me feel happy and then it made me feel somewhat guilty. Honestly, I was rather pleased that someone would miss my presence (it was a nice feeling) but then guilt, a gnawing, nippy feeling, had to come and rain on my parade. It was really strange being sad because someone else was sad. It was also really horrible.

Mary made an effort to broaden her smile and I vaguely thought how pathetic that was. Though, I believe that I thought it pathetic simply because I didn't understand it. If Mary was leaving _me_, I would've screamed at her, throwing nasty words that I would come to regret later. Does that make her the better person? Maybe I'm just selfish - no, I'm definitely selfish. The thought made me laugh. But the tornado that constituted my thoughts eventually allowed its eye to settle over what I was avoiding.

The goodbye.

I was never particularly good with the things. Hell, with Tamaki, I hadn't even _said_ a goodbye. I had just apologized. I hadn't said my farewells to my mother either. They made me itch, goodbyes. They were often tear-stained and awkward - one was never enough. The hugs were horrible (I had never been good at those either); just a mess of clumsily bend limbs and stepped-on toes. Or at least that's what hugs involved with me. Maybe it was different for other people, as they always seemed to do it so naturally.

I made a measly attempt at a content smile at Mary (which, by Mary's cringe, I assumed was a complete failure) and nodded at her.

"Mary."

"Miss Carillon," Mary acknowledged, not pushing me into a goodbye.

It was this silent acceptance that made me want to cry, to cling to the woman that had acted as my surrogate mother these past few years. But I didn't, because I wasn't a child anymore. Taking up my suitcase, my clammy, nervous hands clawing at the cushioned plastic, I headed out of the familiar doors.

Climbing into the limo that would take me to the airport, I let out a heavy breath. Looking out the window, I saw Mary waving, dabbing a tissue on her face.

I allowed myself a small smile, giving a slight wave at the slowly disappearing woman.

"Goodbye, Mary."

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And end! Hope you guys enjoyed it :) Please review - they help me write faster! Also - depressing chapter. No worries though, it starts getting happier later. Are you guys liking Older!Carillon so far? I tried to keep her relatively consistent :) Thanks for reading!


	7. Author's Note

Hey guys, this isn't actually an update but it is relatively important! I am aware that author's notes are never a good sign and tend to lead to the death of a story, however, I promise you I will continue writing but not right now. I am relatively slow on updating this story and since my life is getting out of hand as of late, I have decided to put this story on hiatus. I'm really sorry, you guys but I just didn't want to disappear of the face of the world before warning those of you who read this story! Speaking of those of you who read, reviews are a very, VERY big thing to a writer and as I am investing much of my time into writing, editing and posting these chapters, reviews are definitely something that helps keep morale up. Not that I don't write for pleasure, its just that I write FASTER because of you guys, the readers and when I am typing out 1,000 to 3,000 word chapters in a short time span, reviews really help me to keep up the momentum. GAH. But I digress, this author's note isn't about my ETERNAL FRUSTRATION with the lack of reviews on my stories, it's about me taking some time off.

I expect this hiatus to be relatively short, and once I'm done with finals and out of school, I promise you a brilliant chapter!

Thank you all for bearing with me and see you soon! :D

- Snuggles

PS - I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors, I wrote this very hastily!


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